Ashlyn McKayla Ohm - A Year in the Woods

A YEAR IN THE WOODS

52 Weeks of Growth, Grace, and the Glory of God

Copyright 2021 by Ashlyn McKayla Ohm

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in reviews.

For information, contact

www.wordsfromthewilderness.com

Cover design by Hannah Linder Designs

ISBN (paperback): 979-8-9853344-0-1

First Edition: September 2021

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Acknowledgements and Dedication

As I consider this dedication, Im reminded that towering trees raise hands to Heaven only because someone, somewhere, had the faith to press a seed of belief into a soil that held only possibilities. Its with immense gratitude that I testify that the same has been true in my life, and I wish in some way, however feeble, to convey my appreciation for those who have sown the seeds of this book, and of its author.

For Lain Rodgersthe champion of silent, selfless service. Thank you for living surrendered to the Spirit.

For the kind friends who have always encouraged methe ones who read my first blog posts, who didnt laugh when I declared I wanted to be a writer, who prayed for me and cried with me and repeatedly assured me that Gods anointing was on methank you. If I began to list names, I could fill this entire book, but know that you are all so dear to me.

For my too-good-to-be-true mother, Derri Ohm. Im supposed to be able to craft sentences for every situation, but words are weak compared to the beauty of all that you are. I can only say thank youfor soaking me in grace and lavishing me in love, for showing me how to think wisely and dream extravagantly. Thank you for those endless hours spent teaching mefirst holding my hand as I traced wobbly letters, then patiently showing me the nuts and bolts of a good research paper, drafts of my infamous report on Dolley Madison spread on the floor all around us. But youve been so much more than my trusted teacher. Youre my constant encourager, faithfully urging me upward. Youre my guide to godliness, unfailingly pouring the truth and love of Jesus into my soul. And youre my very best friendthe one who has always, always, given me wings. If you could count the summer stars, then you would know just how much I love you and always will.

For my fantastic dad, Ralph Ohm. Again, any words I could write barely even make ripples in the ocean of my love for you. Thank you for countless rereads of Goodnight Moon and Runaway Bunny (complete with sound effects that, according to you, were responsible for catapulting me from newborn nonentity into sentience; this is debatable). Thank you for always urging me on to adventureseven the ones that did not proceed quite as envisioned. Thank you for having a self-described midlife crisis and buying an RV in which we traveled to dozens of wilderness areas throughout the country. And thank you most of all for being the one I could count onthe running buddy no matter the weather, the face in the audience at every recital, the enthusiastic fan of each blog post. Standing on your shoulders, I can see very far indeed.

For my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. May my every breath be expended in the praise of Your glory! Please accept this humble offeringplease find joy in my celebration of Your world and Your Word. You have done it all! You have brought me into being and have sung my spirit to serenity. You have linked my hand in Yours and led me over every mountain rangenot only the ones in my woodland wanderings but also those along the journey of my soul. May I radiate Your majesty a thousand upon a thousand times! I offer You this book with this prayer always upon my lips: Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it! Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy before the LORD, for he comes, for he comes to judge the earth (Psalm 96:11-13a ESV)!

I close with a quotation from Gene Stratton-Porters classic A Girl of the Limberlost , words that have defined my life: If I am a woman at all worthwhile, it will be because I have had such wonderful opportunities. Not every girl is driven to the forest to learn what God has to say there. [1] Few in this day have the joy, indeed, and I am forever blessed that I am one of themthat I have breathed the air of the High Places and found joy hiding between the trees and witnessed the clouds tumbling overhead and realized that yes, I will live forever. Thank you, Mama and Dad, for unfailingly replying to my boredom with a suggestion to play outside. And thank You, Maker of Mountains, Weaver of Wilderness, for the beauty and the burning of Your glory in this world. May I sing Your praises well.

Ashlyn McKayla Ohm

January 2021

Wild Goose Chase

I t was that dim, uncertain time of daythe time when the sun is just settling behind the trees for the night, but its light still lingers faintly. I was using the last drops of day to keep working on a big task: the eternal chore, familiar to all who live in the country, of collecting and burning fallen tree branches. Id been working diligently all afternoon, submerging many loads of brush in a roaring fire. Now, with evening creeping over the hills, I was solely focused on retrieving the dead sticks under the last few trees in a certain area before I returned to the fire to watch the sparks collide with the stars.

Storms were predicted for later, and their first messengers were already boiling over the sky in the form of rolling purple clouds. The winds, however, were still gentle and held the avant-garde scent of an approaching thunderhead along with the elusive sweetness of spring. As the day faded, the spring peepersthe tiny frogs that live in the marshesbegan raising their chorus.

Then I heard something else. Something different than the frogs, the breeze, the few sleepy birds giving subdued chirps. Something that made my heart beat a little quicker and brought me out from under the trees to examine the sky. As the sound grew louder, I scanned the clouds, searching for the sourcea source I recognized.

Just as Id hoped, here they came, a triangle of migrating geese slicing across the sky. Their unmistakable calls echoing from the clouds, they flew so low above my head that for a moment I could hear the rhythmic pulsing of their wings, like the heartbeat of the wilderness. I watched, hardly breathing, until they had vanished over the horizon and the song of the peepers was once more undisturbed by their trumpet calls.